Like a candle flame
by Hunting Osprey
Summary: A quartet in eight parts for the prowwlxjazz lj Christmas challenge based around the 4 advent candles. Chap 1.5: What did Jazz & Prowl do to annoy Prime so badly and how will the twins react to Prowl in chains?
1. Golden dreams

A/N: This is they story for Hope. With thanks to my wonderful beta reader RumbleStrip

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Memory awakens hope. It is the beautiful task of advent to awaken in all of us memories of goodness and thus open the doors of hope. – Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger

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The sun had long since set blood red and baleful, what little warmth it had imparted to the world had leached away leaving a damp, cable-aching cold in its place. A lazy wind, which blew through you rather than take the trouble to go around, swirled round the rocks where Jazz sat gazing disconsolately out across the landscape.

"Bleak isn't it?" Prowl broke the silence that had held since they'd arrived.

"Yeah," Jazz replied absently, then shooting a sideways look at the ghostly pale form of his friend he continued "Ya know, ya didn't hav' ta stick ya neck in the noose."

"I beg your pardon?" Prowl asked.

"It's not really ya fault." Jazz clarified "Ya had no way of knowin' that I'd take that remark o' yours as the inspiration for a piece o' big league mischief. Let alone that I'd catch Prime in it by mistake."

"He was really rather … peeved, wasn't he?" Prowl's voice rippled with amusement "I want to see the twins' faces when they come down to the brig during their interior patrol tomorrow and find us there."

Jazz grinned in the dark; he could imagine the various reactions to Prowl's admission of guilt in regards to his latest prank. Poor Red would simply offline in shock.

"Besides I have a confession to make." Prowl's voice sounded sheepish.

"A confession?" Jazz repeated, the last time Prowl had used that word in that tone of voice they'd just finished recovering the main database from fragments of shattered memory bubbles and Prowl had confessed that he might just have left Wheeljack's latest explosive gadget in the room.

"Yes, um, you see I very deliberately phrased things the way I did, knowing full well how you'd take it, and I did make sure that a certain sharp eyed security officer over looked several unusual parcels." Prowl was staring down at his feet, an 'I'm so dead' look in his optics "And, um, well I might just be responsible for a certain matrix bearer walking down a certain corridor at a certain moment in time."

"You set me up." Jazz finished flatly, "You slagging glitch, you set me up."

"Yes." Prowl said in a small voice.

"But why, having taken so much trouble ta do it, and do it with out tipping me off I might add, stick ya' neck in the noose?" Jazz asked.

"I would hardly classify myself as an innocent bystander," Prowl replied "besides we need to talk, and I figured that a quiet night in the brig was the only place we wouldn't be disturbed."

"Instead we're stuck with being out here on night watch and then we get to spend a day in the brig." Jazz reminded the tactician.

"Yes, sorry about that." Prowl apologised "I didn't think Prime would be quite so angry."

Jazz went back to staring at the volcanic landscape, fitfully illuminated as the moon shone through breaks in the clouds that were scudding overhead.

"Wadda ya want to talk about that you though a night in the brig was the best place?" Jazz enquired.

Prowl's voice was strangely hesitant "You um, you don't seem too happy these days and I was wondering if I could help?"

Jazz's vents made a moaning whistle as he cycled a chamber full of air, he thought he'd hid his melancholy from the rest of the Ark. Trust it to be Prowl who'd see through his act. He slumped on to the ground and leaned back against the rock he'd been sitting on. Truthfully he wasn't sure where this fit of depression had come from, but it had clung to him like a thick suffocating cloud, dulling his senses and disturbing his recharge, even his music, something that had never failed to make him feel good had lost its charm.

"I don't know Prowl," Jazz whispered, "I, I think I've finally lost hope that the war will ever end or that I'll ever see home again."

Prowl looked intently at the saboteur, Jazz's body language all to clearly gave away the spark crushing hopelessness he was feeling, and his usually melodic voice had gone flat. Processor racing he conjured and discarded many ways to offer Jazz the hope he'd lost, then suddenly a simple solution announced its self and Prowl smiled. He walked over and sat down by Jazz.

"Do you know what my best memories of Cybertron are?" Prowl enquired, sliding a door wing behind Jazz's roof.

Jazz started at that, but after a moment rolled sideways and curled up against Prowl's hood, sheltered slightly from the wind by the forward curving wing and comforted by the arm Prowl slid round his waist.

"No." Jazz murmured into Prowl's shoulder "tell me?"

Prowl smiled at the top of Jazz's helmet, "Getting lost in the central archives."

Jazz stared at Prowl for several seconds before starting to snicker, "Yo…y…you got _lost_?"

"Yes," Prowl replied "I got lost. Not, I add, by any fault of mine. I was tasked with looking up some very old trial transcripts and, well let's just leave it at the archives internal teleport system was a bit scrambled."

Jazz let his head rest back on Prowl's hood and listened as he began to describe his adventures in the far reaches of the admittedly vast archive. As the tactician carried on with the tale, describing the splendour of the building, the graceful high windows that had let light come streaming in and the mellow, hushed and genteel atmosphere, Jazz found himself beginning to relax. Some of the tale Jazz would swear his spark on being made up solely for the purpose of making him laugh, no way was he going to believe that any of the ladders or reference stations had evolved into sentient life, let alone formed hunter-gather societies capable of chasing down any mech unfortunate to come across them.

Slowly, imperceptibly the dark suffocating cloud that had shrouded him began to dissipate and he recalled his own cherished memories of Cybertron before the war, of racing across the vast free plains, of running wild with his fellow gang members through the dark and twisted labyrinth of back streets, just one step ahead of the law.

The clouds had blown away leaving the moon crisp and bright to cast her light over the landscape by the time Prowl brought his story to a close. Jazz looked out over the landscape and found that it wasn't as bleak as he had first thought. Even here in the hard bare volcanic landscape life fought and thrived, Jazz felt a small trickle of hope returning to his spark.

"Prowl, do you think we'll ever be able to restore Cybertron to what it was?" Jazz posed the question tentatively.

"No." Prowl's answer was firm and immediate.

"Oh." Jazz felt the hope begin to curl up and fade

"We will build it up further than that." Prowl's optics burned fiercely with the strength of his conviction "All we've learnt here on Earth, the good and the bad. The new perspective we've gained from humanity and any help humanity is prepared to give will help us avoid the mistakes we made in the past and one day, one day Jazz, Cybertron will rise from the ashes more beautiful than before."

The small twig of hope that had lodge in Jazz's spark began to grow and blossom at Prowl's passionate declaration and Jazz felt the last traces of despair burn to nothing at the fire in Prowl's voice.

Pushing himself off the Datsun, Jazz rolled to his feet and gave Prowl the full force of his trademark smile "Thanks, I think ya really did know what I needed right now." He checked his chronometer "um Prowl?"

"Yes." Prowl was still sat on the ground looking up at Jazz, a curious expression on his face at Jazz's tone.

"How fast do ya think ya could high tail it back ta ark?" Jazz asked, the sense of urgency in his voice brought Prowl to his feet.

"Twenty minutes, why?" Prowl was looking rather nervously at Jazz.

"Well" Jazz drawled "we're about thirty minutes late for a date wit' ta brig."

"Primus!" Prowl yelped scrambling down the rock pile after Jazz and throwing himself into his alt mode "we'd better hope Prime's in a slightly forgiving mood."


	2. The mech in the mirror

A/N: For peace : on earth, amognst friends and between all mankind. Polished as always by my wonderful beta reader RumbleStrip

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Christmas is not just a time nor a season, but a state of mind. To cherish peace and goodwill, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas. – Calvin Coolidge

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Jazz mentally winced as the driver in front of him lost control and slid sideways across the thankfully deserted road, no one in their right mind should be driving right now. The winter had come with a vengeance this year, the ground was frozen solid and covered in sheet ice, snow piled up in drifts driven around by the frequent gales that battered the town. The only reason Jazz was on the road was that Prime wasn't going to buy "hazardous driving conditions" as an excuse for him to miss the meeting, and since he was undeniably the safest way for his co-sufferer to travel, he was headed over to pick him up.

Prime still hadn't forgiven his second and third in command and having released them from the brig had proceeded to try and crush them under paper work and all sorts of onerous tasks. One particular task that had sunk its claws deeply into Jazz's armour was the construction project starting up outside Keslo. A new nuclear power station, the results of collaboration between the Ark's scientific crew and human scientists and engineers- more efficient, less dangerous and recycling 90 percent of its waste it was being hailed as the project that would finally bring in 'safe & green' nuclear power. Unfortunately the company hired to build it had well deserved unsavoury reputation, which was making his job as liaison to the project difficult. Hoist and Grapple had been so outraged at the way the construction was being handled that they point blank refused to have anything further to do with the whole idea, Wheeljack had given up trying to explain the reactor plans and retreated silently into his lab, Jazz was alone in his opinion that the fact there had been no explosions for nearly a fortnight was a bad sign. Prime was insisting that some unlucky mech continue to act as official Autobot representative since the success or failure of the project would reflect on them, Jazz, in a bitter and cynical moment considered that Prime had only dropped him in this particular smelting pit in the hope that he might start thinking like the slag sucking black ops agent he was and bring the company to heel by what ever means necessary.

He spotted his passenger waiting on the roadside, so wrapped up in layers that it was impossible to tell what gender it was. Pulling up to the curb Jazz popped open his door and watched as the figure removed a few outer layers and climbed in. Once in and with the door closed, Jazz turned up the heating and shortly after the figure began shedding more layers. Gradually emerging from the wrapping was a young man of about 30 years, he had ginger hair with flecks of white in it, a full beard covering the lower half of a square face with strong bones and wide bright blue eyes. Karl Myrhe stretched his six-foot frame in the seat and gloried in the warmth of Jazz's interior.

"How's it hangin' man?" Jazz asked, a note of enthusiasm in his voice.

"Bad," Karl's voice was heavy with despondency "Kai called, seems the power and water supply to the hovels have gone off again."

"Ohh man, please tell me it's being fixed asap." Jazz pleaded, any trace of his good mood gone.

Karl only answer was a deep sigh and closed eyes, it told Jazz all he really didn't want to know about the situation.

"In this weather we're gonna have deaths if they don't have heating soon." Jazz pointed out, anger tinting his voice.

"We already have had, a couple of the older 'invisibles' froze to death last night." Karl told him, grief and guilt making his voice rough, "I've done as much as I could, the company is 'working the problem', so I rang the Portland Salvation Army and they've sent their emergency response stuff up there, everyone should at least get a hot meal today."

A heavy and uncomfortably silence spun out as Jazz carefully navigated his way further into downtown Portland; he felt for Karl's predicament, he was a good man working for a bad company. Between the pair of them and with Prowl's discreet assistance they'd done a good deal to relive the poor conditions that the largely illiterate, illegal immigrant workforce lived and worked in, arranging with local charities for good clothing to be delivered, for some basic education and health care to be available, but they were always coming up against a company that just didn't seem to care about it workers and at times it made Jazz's coolant boil.

"I don't know how you do it Jazz." Karl's voice broke the silence.

"Uh, do what?" Jazz asked jolted out of his gloomy thoughts.

"Deal with 'em so patiently, lord knows if I had your skills and resources I'd have had the brass tired up in the worst hovel until they swore every oath they knew that they'd improve the conditions." Karl said his voice rippling with bitterness and anger.

"I'll confess to havin' been sore tempted Karl," Jazz responded, hesitantly after a few moments of thinking "but …" he trailed off and then pulled over to the side of the road.

Karl cocked his head to one side and gave Jazz's dash a curios look, he got the impression that this was a difficult subject for the Porsche.

"It runs like this," Jazz finally volunteered "I've spent millions o' years seein', doing and suffrin' all kinds of slag in the pursuit of an Autobot victory. An' even if Prime don't admit it we've tainted our cause with some o' the grease that has gone on. Sometimes I catch maself wondrin' if there's that much difference 'tween 'bot an' 'con these orn."

Karl stared in shock at Jazz. He'd always carried the impression that there was a galaxy wide gulf between the two sides.

"Um at the risk of sounding naive here," Karl ventured "but from my view point there's a lot of clear blue water between you and the Decepticons."

"Is there?" Jazz asked, regret shimmering in his voice, "Really?"

"Yes. Absolutely" Karl insisted.

"But ya see, doin' what ya suggested to th' brass is somethin' more like what the 'cons would do." Jazz told him gently "Might makes right, is their MO, an' I'm tryin' hard not ta be like them. Especially when dealing with humanity."

"Why?" Karl's voice betrayed his confusion "I mean not why you, the 'cons…" he stopped flustered, resting his fingertips to his eyebrows "Can I start the sentence again?"

"Take 2" Jazz quipped, an unseen smile in his voice.

"I get why you don't want to be like the 'cons, and frankly Jazz you're in no danger of that, but why does dealing with humans make you try even harder?" Karl asked, "It's not like we're exactly shinning examples of cosmic goodness and harmony ourselves."

"True," Jazz agreed "but we're much more powerful than any other human group. If we took it in ta our CPU's that we could do a better job o' ruling the world than humanity, well there's not much ya gonna be able ta do 'bout it, is there?"

"Suppose not." Karl allowed "But what's it that you said Prime says 'bout freedom?"

"Freedom is the right of all sentient beings." Jazz did his best impersonation of Prime.

"That's it, not something I'm hazarding a guess the any 'con would sign up to?" Karl asked.

Jazz began to rock on his shocks with laughter at the though of any of the 'cons attempting to live by Prime's creed of respect and peace.

"But you do live by it," Karl continued when Jazz's laughter had died down "otherwise you'd have taken over long time back, and the temptation to take over and show us how it should be done must be nigh on irresistible."

"Yeah, well it comes with a whole lot of principles like, bein' understandin' and forgivin' of other species mistakes, and the whole 'we come in peace' thing, corny as that may sound." Jazz said, "We didn't exactly plan on dumpin' our war on ya doorstep."

"Well those are the breaks," Karl announced "and in my sister's immortal words, we just have to 'Deal With It.'. Speaking of dealing, since we're only a few days off the start of the Christmas season, traditionally the time for peace and goodwill, how about you give Prowl a call and we put our heads together and see if we can come up with a plan to pound some goodwill towards the workforce into the brass, and then I might just rustle up some mercy towards them in return."

"Which I guess leaves me contributing the 'peace on earth' part of the deal?" Jazz reasoned as he pulled away from the curb, "Ya don't want much fer Christmas do ya?"


	3. The price of love

Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends – John 15:13

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The silence of the night shift was broken by the soft sound of a mech dropping, as quietly as possible, from the ceiling of the security office. Red Alert didn't bother to look round; he knew who his visitor was.

"You're late." Red's voice was faintly accusatory.

"Sorry," the mech replied, straightening out of his landing crouch "Prime decided we needed more hand-to-hand practise."

Red raised an optic ridge "You? More practise at killing? I don't think so."

His visitor smiled grimly "Me neither, but then Prime isn't exactly fully informed about my 'skills'."

Red let out a huff of laughter at the irony of the comment, it never ceased to amaze him how well this mech and his partner hid their true nature from everyone else. He got up and moved away from the monitor bank to the drafting table in the corner of the office, snapping on the light he beckoned the other mech to join him. A pair of black and white hands and arms were illuminated as the mech stood on the opposite side of the table from Red, looking down at the plans with assessing optics.

"You've been busy," the mech remarked, looking at the amount of ink that had been applied to the plans of the Keslo site.

"From a purely professional standpoint it was an interesting challenge." Red replied, "Many of the techniques that humans use to defend themselves from this kind of threat can be easily adapted to our needs."

"Your assessment of the threat level to us?" his visitor asked, raising his optics from the plans to Red.

"There's a minimal risk to the Ark and it population." Red replied, "Individual Autobots could be at greater risk if they were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time; some of the devices that are commonly used in this sort of action are powerful enough to kill or permanently disable a mech."

The visitor nodded and filed the report away for further consideration. As the silence of two professionals considering the implications of a discovery filled the office he watched Red; it never failed to amuse him how the rest of the Ark ignored Red's solidness under pressure and concentrated on his scatter-shot paranoid persona. He and his associate had made that mistake once, and paid for it with a humiliating defeat, they had never repeated the mistake and a firm professional alliance had grown between them. Prime would blow every gasket and transistor he had if he found out about a third of the things the three of them had done or prevented over the vorn.

"Keep us informed if the situation changes." The mech requested, rolling up the plans and stowing them in his subspace.

"Of course," Red replied "you two will do likewise?"

"Naturally," a wry smile tugged at the visitor's mouth "You're the only one interested in the situation, and our cohort is well known for being talkative."

Red grinned at that; oh yes the third member of their little Trine was certainly the sociably type, which made information-passing so simple. He watched as the mech stepped away from the table and jumped up into the emergency crawl-ways that honey combed the Ark's structure.

"Tell him to take care," Red called up softly as the grill was fastened back in place "I don't want to have to brake in a replacement."

A white face appeared behind the grill "I'll tell him. Make sure Prime doesn't find out your helping us, I don't know what's crawled up his tail pipe and died but he's not exactly Mr Reasonable right now."

Red grimaced "Understatement of the vorn there. I'll be careful."

The mech nodded and vanished into the labyrinth; Red turned off the light and settled down in front of the monitors again, life in this unit, he reflected, was always interesting.

_---- Two days later ---_

_How the pit did they get past the sensors_ Jazz silently asked himself as he rounded a corner, the evacuation alarm blaring in his audios. Prowl had 'borrowed' as many of the security sensors as he could and Jazz had followed Red's meticulous plans to the millimetre but still some how the terrorists had managed to do as they had threatened and blow more than half the site to Primus come. _And they would have to choose the day Prime decides to do a site visit_ Jazz grumbled _at least Prowl's keeping him out of the way._

Jazz reached his post on the main route to the assembly point and stood like a rock in the flowing, seething mass on panicking humanity. Pumping his voice through his speakers he directed, informed and tried to calm the workers in their native tongue. Finally the flood thinned and Karl came staggering up to him covered in dust, his face obscured by the blood that had flowed from a gash in his forehead.

"I, I" Karl gasped, fighting to get air into his lungs "Don't know if everybody got out. Some of them, I don't know how many, went to check the reactor shell. The entrance tunnels have all collapsed, the only was out is via the inspection tube but the ladders aren't installed. They could be trapped in there, and I doubt that those were the only bombs planted."

Jazz nodded and walked back to where Prime and Prowl stood, supposedly formulating a plan to search for and evacuate those trapped in the building. He made a mental list of the Autobots he'd need to call. Red, security needed to be organised on the hoof, just in case the lunatics tried something else. Ratchet and First Aid, there were large numbers of walking wounded and the meagre medical facilities weren't up to the job. He was finalising the list at Bumblebee and Beachcomber, in case they had to go into some of the more confined spaces, when Prime's words as he came up to the pair froze his processor.

"No Prowl. This project is over. It has failed through no fault of ours and given the way that we have been treated by the consortium in charge, I feel no compulsion to endanger the lives of any Autobots in a fruitless search of the rubble."

Jazz stared at Prime in disbelief, sure his audios were malfunctioning.

"I beg your pardon?" Prowl's voice was incredulous "Did I just here you say you weren't going to permit us to assist the rescue effort?"

"Yes." Prime's voice was clipped as he turned and began to walk away.

"But Prime," Jazz exploded "there could be people trapped in there! We, we can't just leave."

Prime spun round and fixed Jazz with a glare "We can and we will do just that. We have had nothing but insults and contempt from these people and I've had enough. The project has been terminated by outside interference and we are withdrawing completely from it as of now."

Jazz felt his disbelief turn to anger; he didn't know what the pit was wrong with Prime these days, and what ever the problem was he wasn't going to let some innocent people suffer and possibly die just because his 'glorious leader' had something decaying in his tailpipe.

"And if we disagree with you?" Prowl asked, his voice soft and dangerous.

"Roll Out. That's a direct order soldier." Prime snapped back.

"Slag you to the pit for eternity." Jazz said just as softly, his voice trembling with anger. He reached up and tore off the Autobot symbol from his chest and flung it a Prime's feet. "I don't know what's infected your programming but you're not the mech I swore to follow, he wouldn't have hesitated to help." Unable to speak further, Jazz turned away and stalked across to the edge of the rubble.

"Consider the sentiment echoed," Prowl coldly informed his commander "I hope to Primus that for the sake of the good friends I leave behind, you get help in sorting yourself out, before you get everyone killed." Dropping his insignia at Prime's feet Prowl continued, "You should also consider this our joint resignation notice."

Leaving a speechless Prime in his wake he paced over to join Jazz in surveying the wreckage.

Jazz glanced at him, took in the fact that he also no longer wore the decal and sighed. "Sorry."

"Don't be" Prowl reassured him "it's not your fault. If nothing else it might give Prime a wake up call. If he carries on as he is, there's a good chance that the whole unit will just fall apart due to infighting. I, uh, I've left a message for our trine mate. He deserves to know first and fully what's happened."

Jazz grinned, "He's going to be so hacked at Prime; I wish we could see the end result of that secret war."

Prowl chuckled at some of the thoughts that ran through his CPU at that, yes the underhand, sneaky, conniving little glitch would take an unholy delight in making Prime pay for this. His amusement was cut short as a short man with greying hair and weathered skin came running up to Jazz and spoke to him in a language that wasn't English.

"Kai says that there are possible twenty people still unaccounted for." Jazz informed him as the man sprinted off.

"Possible?" Prowl asked "Doesn't he know who was where on site?"

Jazz's shoulders slumped and his voice carried a despondent note "Prowl, most of these folks don't have the clearance to work in this country legally, they came over in search of a better life and fell foul of traffickers. They drift in and out of job like ghosts; no one's sure how many people work here let alone where they all are."

Prowl frowned at the information "That's going to make our job difficult. As its still standing, shall we start with the reactor dome?"

Jazz shrugged, "It's as good a place as any I suppose. Come on, before someone decides to blow that up as well."

Scanning every inch of the ground before stepping on it, they made their way towards the steel and concrete sphere.

_---- An hour later ----_

Prime stood on the same spot where Jazz and Prowl had left him, processor whirling with thoughts. How dare they. Did their oaths and the Autobot cause mean so little to them? What was wrong with him, how could he even think of not offering assistance? How the Pit was he going to explain this to the rest of the unit? Would he survive telling the rest of the unit? Would the unit survive or would it break up as each mech decided to either follow Jazz and Prowl or stay with him? Was he still fit to lead?

A series of blasts shattered the maelstrom of his mind and before Prime's disbelieving and despairing optics, the sphere that should have enclosed the reactor, the building into which two of his oldest friends and most trusted officers had climbed in order to help others, fractured and as if in slow motion began to collapse in on itself. Burying Jazz and Prowl alive or killing them outright.


	4. When the night meets the morning sun

A/N: I should have posted an OOC warning on the last chap but I was in a major big rush, sorry. This on contains a rather angry Red Alert and Prime getting his CPU handed to him on a plate and then drowning in guilt over his behaviour.

Tommorow4eva: Ta for the pick ups, punctuation is not numbered amongst my skills. I think I've got it right in this one but please let me know if you spot somthing. Jazz & Karl teaching remedial corporate responsibility will be arriving in the new year.

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Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. Psalms 30:5

----

Mirage stood outside Red Alert's office, looking at the door uncertainly. He knew he wasn't in trouble, with Prime acting like he'd had a personality module swap with Megatron no one, not even the twins, were putting even a register over the metaphorical line. His musing was interrupted by the sound of Ironhide stomping down the corridor obviously heading for the security office as well.

"Ya got any idea what's bustin' Red's aft now?" Ironhide asked as he came to a stop beside Mirage and glared at the door.

"None at all." Mirage replied, "Shall we?" he gestured to the door and flicked a questioning glance at Ironhide.

"Why not? All he can do is yell at us." Ironhide grumbled and stepped up to the door, triggering the chime.

"Come." Red's voice didn't sound right, and stepping through the door Mirage and Ironhide exchanged worried looks.

The security director was sat at his desk staring at a satellite image, his face an unreadable mask. When Mirage and Ironhide were standing before his desk he jerked his head away from the monitor and indicated they should sit down, before compressing his lips into a thin line at the image still on the screen.

"Initiate security lockdown classification alpha." Red instructed Teltran "Authorisation code 7B09-AD6C."

"Acknowledged." Teltran's voice echoed over the sound of locks engaging and white noise shields coming online "Lockdown complete."

"While there's still a chance of salvaging anything from this… situation, I must request that none of what I'm about to tell you is repeated to anyone else." Red told the now worried pair of officers. When he received two nods of agreement he continued "As you may be aware, Prime, Prowl and Jazz are absent visiting the Keslo power plant, you probably don't know that it had recently been the target of terrorist threats. Apparently not everyone believes that nuclear energy is something mankind can use safely. About two hours ago multiple explosions were registered at the site."

"Prhames hurt?" Ironhide lunged out of his chair looming over Red, outrage and worry as clear as quartz in his voice "Why didn' ya say so? We need ta get out there, now!"

Red held up placating hands "Prime is unharmed, as far as I can tell, although he is refusing to answer my hails."

"He might be a bit busy helping the rescue effort." Mirage offered as he pulled on one of Ironhide's arms, trying to get him to sit down.

Red snorted derisively "He's not, and I know exactly why he's not answering me." A sour look passed over his face and he glared at the image on the screen again before carrying on "Approximately twenty minutes after the first explosions I received a message from Prowl."

Red typed a short command on his keyboard and looked up "I've triple checked the file, it's genuine."

Prowl's clipped tone issued from the speakers "Autobot Prowl, military tactician and second in command of the Autobot unit stationed on Earth to, Autobot Red Alert, security director. Effective immediately: I and Autobot Jazz, head of special operations and third in command of said Autobot unit resign our commissions as officers and members of the Autobot forces."

Red gave a disgusted sigh and informed the two stunned mechs "Apparently, Prime, forbade them from assisting in the rescue effort. Prowl also sent me his audio log of the conversation and I've quadruple checked that. They disagreed with him, quit and went to help the search effort. This officially means that Prowl's duties as second fall to me until such time as Prime sees fit to appoint someone else to the role. Mirage the same goes for you as pro tem head of ops and you as third Ironhide."

Mirage's optic ridges were trying to climb off the top of his helmet and Ironhide's chin was scrapping the floor, both of them struggling to take in what Red had told them.

"Prhame didn't let em' help folk?" Ironhide finally got out.

"Correct." Red affirmed "But it gets better. Thirty minutes ago a second round of explosions were detected, the building that Teltran records Jazz and Prowl as being in at that time is now a very large pile of rubble and I can't raise either of them."

He waved a hand at the screen and Mirage felt sick to the depths of his tanks as he saw the extent of the carnage. He could just make out the small figures of humans swarming over the rubble, the lights of the emergency service vehicles flickering brightly, but the figure that caught his immediate attention was Prime. Standing on a ridge outside the ring of organised chaos, unmoving, face turned towards the mountain of steel and concrete that covered two ex Autobots.

"Ironhide," Red's voice shattered the numbness that had set in "I don't care how you do it, drag him back by his cam belt if you have to, but get Prime back here."

"I'll do a slag sight more than that." Ironhide vowed, standing up "What the Pit was the fragger thinkin'? He's gonna regret the day he was sparked by th' time I'm done with him."

"Mirage you're doing internal damage limitation and external PR." Red made another sour face "News of the attacks just hit the wires along with the fact that two Autobots have been caught up in it. Officially Jazz and Prowl are still members of our unit, and we'll be assisting in anyway we can. I'll organise a survey team to get down there and see what we can do."

_---- That evening ----_

Red walked out of the Ark into the bitter cold of the night; the day had been long and troublesome. By a bit of well-managed theatre, Ironhide had managed to haul Prime away from the site undercover of the survey team's flashy arrival. Prime, Ironhide and Ratchet were currently locked in Prime's office having a 'full and frank discussion' of Prime's behaviour. Red didn't envy Prime that, but hoped to Primus that it would boot him out of his temper. News had soon come that all the human workforce was accounted for with no more than a few broken bones and lots of blood. The survey team's news however had been dimming, the rubble pile was too unstable for even the lightest of the min-bots to walk on safely and the high mineral content of the sand used in the construction had rendered the scanners and sensors useless after about a foot. Hoist and Grapple had remained to offer what professional advice they could but the rest of the Autobots had withdrawn into private waiting and grieving.

Rounding a corner Red was brought to a stop by the sight that greeted his optics. Sheltered by an outcrop of rock hundreds of candles lit the night, in that light Red saw groups of people holding each other and praying, single people kneeling before candles or pictures, and many more walking up a hastily marked path with more candles, flowers or bits of paper with a picture or writing on them, laying them in front of the rock face or amongst the tributes already left.

"You must be Red Alert." A voice from the level of his knees made Red look down.

"Who are you and how do you know me?" Red asked the woman who stood looking up at him.

"Alice Johnson, and Jazz described you so perfectly I could hardly mistake you for anyone else." Alice told him, smiling as he frowned at the news, "I've done a couple of shifts manning the soup kitchen the Salvation Army runs up at Keslo. Jazz and I got talking and he described most of the Autobots to me."

The sight of so much sympathy for mechs that almost none of the people here had even spoken to, was suddenly just too much for Red and he whirled away, hiding behind the outcrop of rock that sheltered the candles, curled up on himself hiding his grief from the world.

"Red Alert?" Alice's voice penetrated the darkness that surrounded him.

"Sorry," Red muttered "it's… I"

"You need to throw rocks at the moon as well you know." Alice's voice was compassionate.

Red uncurled and looked uncomprehendingly at her "I fail to see how that would help."

Alice laughed "I meant you need to let out your feelings too, and I've always found the moon a perfect target. To high to hit to big to miss."

Red considered the statement; he probably couldn't throw a rock into orbit but he could throw just high enough to hit low flying aircraft.

"On the other hand since, according to Jazz, Prime has a thing about not hitting planes with rocks you could just talk to me." Alice said, sitting down beside him.

Red felt a dam burst. He began to talk and talk, stories of the things the three of them had done over the vorn poured out, and in the space of the next few hours Alice knew more about them than Prime did.

Dawn was breaking when Red finally stopped talking.

Alice stretched limbs gone numb from hours sitting listening and laid a hand on Red's knee "It's three days till Christmas Red Alert, three days till we celebrate the second biggest miracle ever. Don't give up hope of seeing Jazz and Prowl alive again; this is the season for gifts and miracles."

Red walked back to the Ark, considering her words. However hard it may be he wouldn't give up hope or trying to make the longed for miracle happen. Time for him to roll the scientific crew from their bunks and see what they could come up with.

_--- The night of Christmas Eve ---_

Prime stood in the teeth of the gale that howled round the wreckage of the Keslo plant. The weather had put a stop to the continuing rescue efforts and driven everyone else inside but he didn't feel comfortable in company anymore; this whole mess was his fault. He'd allowed his frustration at a string of defeats by the 'cons to turn into anger at a harmless prank and had given that anger free reign. Just look where that had landed them all. He shuddered at the memory of the dressing down Ironhide and Ratchet had given him, on the whole he decided he'd rather strip himself of his weapons and endure Vortex's undivided attention than go through that again.

The only positive thing was that the Ark's resident geniuses had finally come up with a glue that filled the gaps in the rubble and strengthen it enough for even Prime to walk on safely. They had taken two feet of rubble off the pile that marked the reactor shell using the stuff before the weather set in, and now all they could do was for the storm to blow itself clear. That, and pray to any passing benevolent deity that the objects of the search were still in the land of the functioning.

It was the early hours of the next morning by the time the weather cleared and the broken ruins where blanketed in snow, giving the place a deceptively serene and peaceful feel. That feeling was shattered by the roaring of engines as the human rescue equipment was fired up and teams began moving over the site, clearing snow. Suddenly a commotion erupted from the gangs working over to one side of the pile. Prime looked over at the humans as several of them ran over to the operators of the machines and got them to silence their engines. Then in the thin, cold, still air of the pre dawn hour, a sound floated up through the debris

"'Till ringing, singing on it way the world revolves from night to day." Jazz's unmistakable melodic voice was raised in song.

Prime felt his pump stutter and his spark try and tear its way out of its casing.

"A voice a chime a chant sublime, of peace on earth goodwill, to men." A different voice sang in response.

Prime dropped to his knees in relief "Prowl." He whispered.

The realization that both of the objects of the rescue effort were still alive galvanised the teams and work restarted with fresh zeal.

"Ratchet," Prime radioed the medic, at this hour still recharging "we've found them, they're still alive."

"I'm rolling, are you in contact?" was Ratchet's almost immediate reply.

"No, but we can hear them singing." Prime told him.

"Singing? Prowl?" Ratchet muttered "He must have knocked his battle computer and logic centres offline. Don't let anyone move them before I get there."

"Yes sir." Prime said meekly, ending the conversation.

_----_

Hoist and Grapple were taking hold of sections of glued-together rubble and laying them carefully to one side as Ratchet arrived; setting aside another block of destroyed masonry Hoist gave a gasp at what he found below.

"Mornin', Hoist." Jazz's voice greeted the dawn "Thanks for diggin' us out."

Ratchet was suddenly standing by the hole that had been revealed, gazing down at the still half-buried mechs. Jazz was sitting propped up against a steel column that had once supported the roof, his lower leg covered in rubble. Prowl was flat on his back, covered up to his neck in blocks and steel bars, head resting on Jazz's lap. The three of them began to carefully move the blocks holding down the Datsun. Ratchet was soon yelling for Prime to get his aft over to the hole and take Prowl and _carefully_ load the mech into his trailer for the journey home. Prime balked at the state Prowl was in. Both doorwings were missing, his body paint looked like it had been sand blasted and very few armour plates had no holes in them.

"I'm so sorry" Prime whispered in a voice strangled by shame and guilt as he carried Prowl across the site "I, I can't excuse my behaviour."

Prowl gave him a small smile, already going offline from the sedative Ratchet had pumped into him "I forgive…" he got out drowsily before dropping offline.

Setting Prowl down gently on the floor of his trailer, Prime vowed that he, Jazz and Prowl would have a long talk about the events of the past month. Ratchet came in carrying an offline Jazz and Prime felt the guilt dig its claws in even further; Jazz was missing both his lower legs and an arm.

"They'll both live." Ratchet informed him bluntly "Now get out there and get us back to my repair bay."

Prime obeyed without a word.

_----_

Red walked away from the Ark leaving the sounds of the party behind, all was on the way to being well. Prowl and Jazz would make a full recovery and Prime was ensconced in the repair bay waiting for them to come back online so they could settle whatever remaining grievances they had. The air of despair that had lurked around every corner of the Ark had been swept away by the party that had been in full swing since Ratchet had delivered his prognosis.

Red reached his destination. The candles still burnt and no on had removed the thousands of tributes that had been laid but on a small niche high in the rock face he noticed a single solitary red candle, with a piece of card tied to it. Lifting down both candle and card he read the note.

Red Alert

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.

Alice.

Detaching the card and replacing the candle Red turned and headed back to his quarters for some much needed recharge, the pale light of a new day washing over his face, his spark rejoicing.


	5. The chain gang

A/N: I wrote this in response to comments by folks on the ProwlxJazz LJ community. They wanted to see just what Prowl and Jazz had been up to too land them with brig time and how the twins reacted, so I give you the morning after the night before. Coming soon: Corporate responsibility & old fashioned justice.

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"Oooohhh Prowl," Jazz's whimper echoed round the cellblock "lower, please, lower"

The only response to this statement was a soft moaning noise and the scrape of armour on armour, and then Prowl's rather strained voice filled the silence "It's no good Jazz I'm just not that flexible."

"mmm, try twisting the other way." Jazz suggested, there followed more moans and scraping, before Prowl gave a sharp gasp and Jazz asked "You OK?"

"Yes," Prowl's voice sounded off "just twisted a door wing too far."

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker stood on the threshold gaping at each other; they could imagine only one reason for both second and third in command to be down here making those kind of noises and if Jazz had finally managed to get Prowl to... Sideswipe shook his head desperate to erase that mental image.

"What the pit do we do now?" Sunstreaker hissed, his optics wide open as he stared down the short corridor.

"Make lots and lots of noise." Sideswipe told his twin "And hope to Primus that they're not too ummm, involved, to hear us."

Sunstreaker shuddered at the mental image and stomped down the corridor yelling "Come on Sides, don't dawdle. I want to get this over with."

"Subtle Sunny, really subtle." Sideswipe muttered and walked noisily down the corridor, humming loudly.

They stepped into the main brig area together, ready to bolt for the exit at the slightest provocation. The sight that greeted them therefore was so unexpected that it brought them to a complete stop. Behind the solid wall of energon that sealed the small high security cell, were both black and white's. If it wasn't shocking enough to find both officers locked up, there was the fact that they were suspended from the ceiling by their wrists. Jazz had obviously decided to take the opportunity to teach Prowl how to break out of such restraints and the tactician was half twisted round, legs wrapped round Jazz waist to get enough height and stability to pick a lock he couldn't see.

"Hi guys." Jazz chirped at the stunned twins, "That's it Prowl squeeze the catch and get ready to drop."

Prowl did just that and they both dropped as the restraints flew open. Regaining their feet they walked forward to stand just behind the semi-transparent cell wall.

"How's it goin'?" Jazz asked cheerfully, dropping the cuffs and chain to the floor of the cell absently.

Sunstreaker gapped silently at them unable to get his vocaliser to work. Sideswipe managed to make some incoherent noises while waving a hand at them, the restraints and their current accommodation.

A small smile crossed Prowl's face "Based on vast experience of the twins own personal language, I'm going to translate that as 'what the Pit are you doing in there?'"

Jazz allowed his trademark grin to show as he told the twins "Prime made us an offer we couldn't refuse."

"Prime?!" Sunstreaker squeaked

"Yep." Jazz affirmed.

"Wha, w…w…w why?" Sideswipe finally forced his vocaliser to ask.

"Well." Jazz said, his voice and grin predatory.

"There was the conversation about the state of decoration of the Ark," Prowl cut in, his voice heavy with smug amusement "and the consideration of the colour scheme."

"Orange is soooo last vorn." Jazz drawled lazily.

"Then there was the crate of rather _sparkly_ neon green paint that Red inexplicable failed to confiscate." Prowl continued, doing his best impersonation of the twin's innocent voice.

"And Preceptor's new glue." Jazz chirped in.

"Indeed," Prowl agreed, "not forgetting the half ton of rhinestones that magically appeared in the storage bay."

"Mysterious that." Jazz winked an optic at Prowl.

"Very, and then there were Wheeljack's three new interlinked multi barrel, rapid-fire field artillery pieces." Prowl solemnly informed the now quivering twins.

"And the tripwire and photon-flash assembly that _someone_ carelessly left lying around our decorating test area." Jazz gleefully informed the world.

"A terrible health and safety hazard that." Prowl was deliberately not looking at Jazz or the twins at this point.

"And of course there was a certain big truck, current bearer of the matrix, supreme leader of the Autobots and templar extraordinaire, possessed of a very heavy hand, a short temper and no appreciation for experimental fashion ideas." Jazz concluded.

"Quite. I think, on reflection, the hot pink feathers were not a good idea. They did rather clash with the green paint." Prowl offered contemplating the mental image he knew he would cherish until he joined the matrix.

Silence filled the brig for several breams, as two very over taxed CPU's tried to process what they'd been told.

The sound of Sideswipe hitting the floor as his CPU crashed, sending him offline, jerked Sunstreaker back to reality. Making small distressed noises of his own he gathered up his twin and fled the brig as though the Unmaker himself were after them. Jazz and Prowl waited until the sound of the Sunstreaker whimpering the names of Primus and Ratchet faded into the distance, before both of them slid down to sit on the floor and began howling with laughter.


End file.
